


These Days

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-21
Updated: 2010-12-21
Packaged: 2019-01-19 23:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12420135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: "It was the first time in his life that he would be able to have something, or someone, for himself, and that possibility scared the hell out of him." H/G post DH. Harry, Ron, and Hermione return to Hogwarts for their seventh year.





	These Days

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

AN: I haven't written any fanfiction for Harry Potter in quite a while (I was  
usurped by a couple of other fandoms, and college) but it is my longest lasting  
fanfiction interest and I have been thinking about this plotline for quite some  
time. As these things go I am a sucker for cannon, so please don't expect any wild  
pairings here. This story will be predominantly H/G with R/Hr elements here  
and there. I would love to hear your comments and suggestions about my work,  
so please leave a review.

Disclaimer: I don't own this material. It all belongs to Jo Rowling and the folks at  
Warner Brothers.

**Chapter One**

The Burrow had fallen into a mid-afternoon slump in activity that left the  
normally active household oddly quiet. Harry opened the backdoor and entered  
the deserted kitchen. There were a couple of pairs of trainers kicked into the  
corner by the welcome mat; he could decipher Ron's well worn, oversized boots  
and Ginny's much smaller light blue sneakers on top of the pile. Mrs. Weasley  
had left out some fruit and pastries on the kitchen counter in case anyone got  
hungry, but it was unlikely that she'd be up to cooking anything until dinner.  
Judging by his watch, it was only two o'clock, but Harry felt the subtle, nagging  
feeling of hunger in his stomach. He grabbed an apple out of the basket next to  
the sink and bit into its sour green surface.

It was odd to think that only a week ago he had still been after horcruxes. After  
Voldemort's death he had been exhausted--Madam Pompfrey had given him a  
generous supply of dreamless sleeping draft that he had initially taken advantage  
of. The first day that the public was fully aware of what had happened he had  
been so overwhelmed. Hundreds of owls had been sent to him, the Daily Prophet  
had been breathing down his neck for an interview, and Kingsley had requested  
him to stop by the Ministry to receive his order of Merlin. After that second day  
Harry retreated to the Weasley's and downed more of his sleeping draft than  
recommended. He slept for two days, waking to Herminone and Mrs. Weasley  
hovering over him, shaking him awake.

"Harry, you've got to wake up," Hermione prodded, gently nudging his shoulder.

He slowly opened his eyes and immediately put on his glasses. The window had  
been opened; it looked to be mid-day outside.

"Are you alright dear?" Molly asked, attempting to flatten his wild hair. "It's not  
healthy to sleep that long. Do you feel ill? You must be starving. Let me get you  
some toast and pumpkin juice." She left them to scurry down to the kitchen  
while Hermione sat on the end of his cot.

"How long was I asleep?" Harry asked, gulping down a glass of water that had  
been left on his night table.

"Two and a half days," Hermione answered. "You were out for quite a while. At  
first we let you sleep but Mrs. Weasley started to get worried."

"I'm fine," he answered, straightening his cockeyed T-shirt that was now  
impossibly wrinkled. "How've you been? And Ron? I'm assuming you haven't  
been asleep this whole time."

"We haven't. Kingsley sent an owl with the date for the Merlin awarding  
ceremony. Ron and I received them as well. We're supposed to attend it  
tomorrow."

Mrs. Weasley emerged in the doorway with a tray laden with food of all types.  
Harry's throat was drier than any other time in recent memory and he went  
straight for the pitcher of juice she'd brought up, gulping down the cool, sweet  
liquid.

"I've washed and pressed your dress robes Harry, they're laid out for tomorrow,"  
she gestured toward his nicest set of clothes that he hadn't worn in ages. "I hope  
you haven't grown too much since you got them," she fretted.

"I'm sure they'll be fine," Harry said. "Thank you for everything Mrs. Weasley.  
I'm sorry I've been so much trouble."

"What on earth are you talking about dear boy? You're no trouble at all. Don't  
hesitate to get more food if you're hungry. I expect Ron'll be by in a minute or  
two. He's helping Arthur with some things our back."

She stood and straightened Harry's bedcovers as he ate, slanting the blinds on  
her way out so the sunlight wasn't as direct. After Mrs. Weasley was gone  
Hermione snatched the bottle of sleeping draft off of Harry's night table, along  
with the written dosing instructions given to him by Madam Pompfrey.

"You've taken too much," she scolded, eyeing what was left of the purple  
substance in the vial. "It's dangerous, you know, and addictive."

"I didn't want to have any dreams," Harry explained. He finished off one plate of  
food and scratched the back of his neck. "If you don't mind I'd fancy a bath," he  
said, uncomfortable in his sleep clothes.

"Go ahead," she relented, "I'll tell Ron and Ginny that you're up."

Harry was in the doorway of Ron's bathroom, already tugging his shirt off when  
he called out to Hermione, "Leave that vial, will you?"

She made a noise that sounded like "humph" and left the draft and the  
instructions by his bedside.

"Thank you Hermione," he called out cheekily, turning on the water.

~~~~~~~~~~

After he cleaned himself up Harry said a few words to Ron, who had finished  
helping his father and was now sitting rather close with Hermione under an apple  
tree in the garden. They invited him to sit down but Harry could tell that they'd  
been enjoying their time alone together. "It's alright, I'm actually going to go take  
a walk," he explained.

"You sure mate?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, we'll catch up later."

It was something he hadn't been able to do in so long, simply walk from one place  
to another by himself without being followed or dogged by other people. He  
thought about the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts when he had roamed  
the streets around his relatives' home until late every night, simply trying to stay  
out of the house. In some ways those walks had been peaceful; if he could avoid  
Dudley and his gang of friends it had served as a good time to think and mull  
things over, even if those things had sometimes been unpleasant. Harry had  
spent the majority of his recent years in a sort of frenzied paranoia. The demand  
to be constantly alert of his surroundings or always trying to sort out some puzzle  
in his head had left him exhausted. He missed doing simple personal things like  
riding his broom or spending time with Ginny. Part of Harry's role as defeater of  
Lord Voldemort was sacrificing much of his personal life and desires. With the  
threat of Voldemort eradicated he was left where his life had left off. Harry had  
options now; he could go back to school, he could choose to take time off if he  
wanted, he could start auror training in a year or so, he could carry out any  
number of plans that he had never seriously explored until this point because of  
his circumstances.

There were so many things he wanted to learn now that he had the time. He  
wanted to become more proficient at occlumacy, animagous transfigurations, and  
potion making. As he thought about all of this Harry arrived at the orchard  
where he and Ron had played quidditch with the other Weasleys so long ago. If  
he wanted to be an auror he had to go back to Hogwarts in the fall. That was fine  
with Harry; it was almost a relief. Another year of school would give him time to  
catch up on everything he'd missed while he had been tracking down the  
horcruxes; it would buy him more time at Hogwarts before he actually had to  
enter the wizarding world as an adult.

By the time he had returned to The Burrow Ron and Hermione were no longer in  
the garden. Probably went looking for some real privacy, Harry thought. He  
took his shoes off at the door and nicked an apple. The quietness made him  
wonder where the rest of the Weasley's had gone. The house had been generally  
subdued every since their return from Hogwarts and the battle against  
Voldemort.

Initially, Fred's passing had been very difficult for everyone, especially George  
and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Even thought he knew it was unjustified he felt  
largely responsible for what had happened to Fred. Whenever Mrs. Weasley  
would start crying unexpectedly he felt guilty and uncomfortable. Some nights  
she would be cleaning up after dinner and he would hear the soft crying of a  
mother who had lost her son. Arthur would comfort his wife and help her out  
more than usual but the stress was overwhelming for Harry. He had seen and  
experienced enough death and loss in his teenage years to feel alienated from his  
peers. In some ways having the threat of Voldemort and all the riddles that went  
along with it had been a good distraction for his own feelings. Instead of  
concentrating on Sirius' or Dumbledoor's death he was able to focus all of his  
waking thoughts on fixing the problem. Maybe it was unhealthy, but it had led  
him thus far. He had survived because of his focus. He had spent so much time  
obsessing over murder, murders that had occurred and murders that would occur  
in the future, that he sometimes wondered if there was really much difference  
between him and Voldemort. He could imagine Hermione's voice in his head, Of  
course there is, don't be daft. You're doing a noble thing. But was he really?  
Yes, he wanted to protect himself and other members of the wizarding  
community and the only way to do that was to eliminate Voldemort completely,  
but his main motivating factor was his will to live and his personal hatred.  
Voldemort had killed his parents, his godfather, his mentor, and his friends.  
There was no one that Harry Potter despised more than Tom Riddle, and he had  
intended to kill him out of a desire for revenge.

Fear and hatred were the two emotions that had dominated his life until this  
point. Harry didn't understand what it was like to live without being under a  
constant threat; he didn't understand what it was like to experience love. What  
he had formed with Ginny a little over a year ago had been restricted in his mind.  
He was afraid of getting too close to her and turning her into a target. Voldemort  
had used his loved ones against him before and Harry knew that he wouldn't  
hesitate to do it again. Putting distance between himself and Ginny had provided  
an easy emotional escape for his insecurities about the relationship. Before  
Harry had met Ron and Hermione he hadn't known how to be anyone's anything,  
let alone a friend or a romantic partner, and, to an extent, he was still unsure. He  
had never been in a functional relationship without his fame or his personal  
circumstances getting in the way. Harry knew that Ginny still had feelings for  
him, it was understood, and he still had feelings for her, but he was afraid that his  
lack of experience and emotional baggage would get in the way. There were so  
many factors pulling him away from what he wanted that it got to be nearly  
impossible in his head sometimes. It was the first time in his life that he would  
be able to have something, or someone, for himself, and that possibility scared  
the hell out of him.

He got to one of the upper floors, planning to maybe go back up to the room he  
shared with Ron and flip through the Daily Prophet or one of the defense books  
that Mr. Weasley had nicked for him from the auror office, but when he arrived at  
the landing before Ron's he stopped, pausing outside of what he knew to be  
Ginny's room. _There's no reason not to_ , he thought, taking a step closer. _It's_  
safe. She's not in danger anymore. Harry was reasoning with himself, scanning  
through all of the possible reactions he could expect from Ginny if he initiated  
this. It was undeniable that he wanted her. Staring at the oak paneled door to  
her bedroom he could smell the light, flowery scent that he had grown to  
associate with her. Since they'd been together he had become more in tuned with  
it, the way that partners become more in tuned with each other's facial  
expressions or moods. He could tell if she had just left a room or if she had  
recently washed her hair. Harry took a step closer and brought up his hand, his  
knuckles white.

He quietly knocked on Ginny's door and waited, his heart speeding up with every  
second. It opened slightly and he could see one of her round, golden brown eyes  
and a sliver of her full smile. "Hello Harry," she said, widening the opening.  
"Come in."

It had been almost a year since he had been in Ginny's room and not much had  
changed. She had the same mint green bedspread with quilted pillows; her  
yellow ottoman was still pushed up against the window with the same silver wind  
chimes hanging above the sill. A pair of knitting needles and the beginnings of a  
black scarf sat on the end of her bed. Ginny immediately shoved her handiwork  
behind her back and tossed it into her basket of clean laundry. "Don't look!" She  
scolded.

"I didn't know you knitted," Harry said.

"Mum's been teaching me," she explained, a little sheepish that she had picked up  
such a girly hobby. Watching her made him smile in spite of himself, the way her  
eyes glanced at him and back at the floor, as if she were nervous. He wanted to  
run his hands over her smooth arms and feel her smile with his lips. She was  
beautiful and it was magnetizing.

They sat down on Ginny's bed and Harry couldn't help but notice how good she  
looked. He hadn't had a decent chance to look at her in a while and he felt  
regretful for all the opportunities he'd missed. Her wavy red hair was half up,  
exposing her delicate, faintly freckled ears. Ginny's brown eyes brought out the  
auburn undertones to her ginger hair; the focus of his gaze was probably  
noticeable, but he wanted it to be. She scooted a little closer to him and  
examined a small bruise on his cheek that had yet to heal.

"How have you been feeling? You slept for such a long time."

"I'm alright," Harry replied, happy that she was forward enough to touch him. "I  
don't really know how I feel. It's strange to not have anything to worry about. It's  
like I have my head to myself for the first time in my life."

Ginny nodded and lowered her hand. Before it could even touch the bedcovers  
Harry took it in his and laced their fingers together. A blush began to creep into  
her cheeks; she smiled at him as he pulled the young redhead into his lap. Ginny  
took the opportunity to burry her face in his black and gray plaid shirt, kissing  
the side of his neck while he stroked her hair. They sat like that for a moment,  
quiet, each holding their breath as if to sustain the experience. _This is wild_ ,  
Harry thought. _I'm alive and I have the girl I want. She was safe this whole  
time. She was safe and I get to keep her._

"I worried about you so much," she confessed. "I thought about you every night  
before I went to sleep and I hoped that you'd be okay." Her small hands touched  
his face as he leaned down to look at her.

"I thought about you too. I used to take out the Maurauders' Map and look for  
you to make sure you were safe. There were times when I would think of you and  
get really depressed because I didn't think we would both make it. Actually, I  
didn't think that I would make it. I figured you would have found someone else,  
specifically someone who didn't have a bounty after them."

"Harry, you're mad," Ginny said thickly, her eyes looking a little watery.

"Hey," he said, cupping her face with his hand. "C'mere."

They leaned in towards each other and the world seemed to halt on its axis. _Yes,_  
yes, yes, finally, he thought, closing the space between them. His left arm had  
snaked around her, holding Ginny close to him while he pressed his lips against  
hers. She made a small sound in her throat that he had come to recognize despite  
their limited time together, sucking on her bottom lip and waiting for the moan  
that would follow. He had missed this. He had missed holding her against him  
and pleasing her and mostly he had missed their silent intimate exchanges in his  
bed in Gryffindor tower. Ginny pulled at the hair at the base of his neck and he  
kissed her harder, loving the contrast between the slight pain and the hot, electric  
feeling he got from her.

"Lets lay down," he suggested, pulling her onto the quilt with him. She moved as  
close to him as possible, sliding his leg in between hers while Harry repeatedly  
kissed her neck. They lay together for a while, touching each other and breathing  
quietly. Her hips were pressed tight against his with his hand in the back pocket  
of her jeans, his eyes on her lips. Harry had spent a year away from the girl he  
wanted and he planned on making up for it in increments like this.

They kissed each other slowly, sometimes shifting their position and talking  
softly. Eventually Ginny had wormed her soft hands under his shirt, her eyes  
glowing. "I missed you," Harry said, his voice a little scratchy. "I can't believe  
you waited this long."

"I don't understand why you're so surprised. I thought of you the whole time we  
were apart." She brushed some of his jet-black hair out of his eyes, hesitating  
slightly before tracing his lightning-shaped scar with her finger.

"Do you think it'll ever fade?" Ginny asked, her expression questioning.

"Probably," Harry answered. "Especially now that the spell caster is no longer  
alive." Pulling at the fabric of his shirt, he showed her the long, slanted gash that  
was slowly healing on his chest, just and inch or two above his heart. "I think his  
hand was shaking when he made this one," he said, pointing to his forehead, "but  
this time it was steadier."

She placed her palm over the spot where Voldemort had cast the second killing  
curse; the scar there ran the length of her hand.

Before they could say anything else the pair heard footsteps on the stairs close to  
Ginny's door. Harry quickly re-buttoned his shirt and sat up, attempting to make  
himself look presentable.

The door opened and Ron walked in a few paces, asking, "Have you seen Ha--"

"Oh, sorry," he faltered, observing Harry and Ginny sitting on the bed. "Didn't  
realize I was _interrupting_."

Ginny snorted while Harry raised an eyebrow. "We were just talking. You can  
stay if you want."

"No thanks," Ron offered, his ears slightly pink.

Hermione stepped into view from the open doorway. "Mrs. Weasley wanted me  
to tell you that dinner's about ready. Ronald, what are you doing?" She asked,  
tugging on his arm. "Give them some privacy."

He allowed Hermione to lead him out of the room. Harry chuckled as he heard  
his best friend explain that he had _tried_ to, their voices growing fainter as they  
descended the stairs. He caught the slightly annoyed expression on Ginny's face  
as he helped her up.

Facing each other Harry was nearly a head taller than her. She looked up,  
straightening his button down and slightly, but intentionally, brushing the front  
of his jeans with her small, pale hand.

"I know your tricks, Ginny Weasley," he said, narrowing his eyes at the  
mischievous redhead. "You'll have to wait until later."

"But I want you," she nuzzled him as best she could, being so much shorter than  
him, her arms around his neck.

"And you think I don't?" He asked, bending down to kiss her before they went  
down to dinner. One of his hands rested at the small of her back, pulling her  
closer. Just as he'd started to slip his hand underneath her shirt they heard Mrs.  
Weasley calling to the rest of the household that dinner was ready.

"Later," Harry said, kissing her a few more times before they joined the rest of the  
family.


End file.
